Arthur Graeme West

Seeing Her off

A whistle ’mid the distant hills
            Shattered the silence grey,
She turned on me her great sad eyes,
            Then lightly skimmed away.

I followed slow her flying feet
            In idlest heaviness,
But oh! my heart it laught to see
            Roar through the proud express.

In the after silence and the gloom
            I found her there again,
And won three minutes more delight
            Before the second pain.